


I Don't Believe In Luck

by Elgan



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Blood, Gay Character, Guns, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Pansexual Character, Smoking, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6965776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elgan/pseuds/Elgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the course of sixteen years, Rafe finds himself needing Sam more and more, in ways he never expected.</p><p>Set during the entirety of the fourth game and includes major spoilers.  Rating is for later chapters and tags will be updated as necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Security

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hello, thanks for checking out my work! If you like it, please check back every week for a new chapter. It's been a while since I've written a longer piece but I'm very eager to see this one to completion, and I hope you are, too. I'll try to stick to the canon material as beset I can, but I might take a few liberties here and there. Also, I know it starts off a bit slow but I promise things will pick up shortly. Thank you for your patience, and I hope to see you next week c:
> 
> The title comes from the Celldweller song, "The Lucky One".

Chapter One: Security

As usual, Rafe Adler was home alone. His father was at the factory and his mother was at the hotel, both micromanaging their respective businesses as they always did. It was just like any other night for Rafe. A few hours were spent practicing sports--tennis, fencing, running. Then dinner, eaten in the silence of the empty dining hall. Dinner was followed by dessert, which was followed by pacing in the library, indecisive about what to read next.

He could go out. And do what? Get drunk and make a fool of himself? Go for a drive only to come back? No, surely there was something left in the room he hadn't read yet. Prowling between the shelves, his eyes darted across various titles and authors in hopes of seeing something unfamiliar. He soon found himself disappointed on the other side of the room. With a sigh, he turned the corner and nearly hit someone.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he demanded before getting a real look at the man. Once he noticed the expensive suit and earpiece, he bristled with even more rage, "You're security detail? Why aren't you on your patrol route?"

"Sorry man--I mean, sorry sir," the man offered a small bow in apology. "I'm new, I guess I just got a bit lost--"

"Bullshit," hissed Rafe, hitting the man in the chest with the back of his hand. "My father always makes sure the new guards know their patrols before he has them work. Who the fuck are you and why are you in here?"

"Woah, slow down," the guard reached into his jacket and pulled out an ID card. "I do work here. I was just--I was on a break and I thought I'd take a look around. I won't do it again."

Snatching the card from the man's fingers, Rafe stared at it, expression growing more and more bitter by the second. It was an Adler security badge, that much was true. It identified the guard as Samuel Drake, aged 28, and Rafe begrudgingly handing it back to the man.

"Mr. Drake, I think we started off on the wrong foot. Now, you know I could fire you, or, in many other ways, make your life a living hell. So I want to know why, honestly, you thought it was appropriate to come into the library just because you're on your 'break'."

"Well--that is--there's no need to do anything rash, sir." Drake visibly swallowed as he held up his hands in a placating manner. "I didn't mean nothing by it. I'm just working on a project and I thought I might look at what you've got for reference materials. But I've learned my lesson, I won't come back in here."

"You had better not." Rafe eyed him up. Drake was taller than he was, and broader--an obvious fit for a security position. Rafe had confidence in himself, that much was true, but he wasn't one to get into a fight he couldn't win. With a pacifying smile, he gestured towards the door, "I'll go easy on you just this once, Mr. Drake. Go back to work and I won't do anything drastic."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He turned and made to leave.

Realizing he had just dismissed the only break in his solitude, Rafe sighed at his own incompetence and rescinded his words, "Mr. Drake, stop right there."

Drake did as instructed, and nothing more. "Can I help you?"

"Tell me what you were researching."

Twisting back around, Drake raised an eyebrow. "Oh you--you wanna know? 'Cause I'm sure it's all boring stuff to you, you have this grand library at your disposal--"

"Tell me."

It wasn't a question, and Rafe knew that Drake knew it. The guard's hands fell and he eyed his employer with caution. "It's nothing, really. Just something me and my brother have been working on since we were kids. We study famous pirates and stuff like that."

"Famous pirates. From back in the day?"

"Yeah! Yeah, exactly."

"I see." Rafe folded his hands behind his back. "Tell me about them."

"About--about the pirates?"

"Yes. Pick one and tell me about him."

"Well there's--there's Henry Avery, pulled the Gunsway Heist, you know, pretty infamous for that."

"The Gunsway Heist? That sounds interesting. Tell me about that."

Drake was visibly sweating now, and Rafe smirked as the man explained, "Avery and his crew, they capture this ship, the Gunsway--"

Rafe silenced him by holding up his hand. "You know what? Never mind that for now. I've kept you long enough, I'm sure your break is over. Why don't you get back to work. On your next break you can come back here and we can talk, how does that sound?"

"Sounds--I mean, I thought you didn't want me in here anymore?"

A chuckle bubbled out of Rafe. "Mr. Drake. _Samuel._ You've caught my interest. You think I'm going to let you out of my sight now?"

He offered a shrug in reply. "I guess I just don't know you well enough to say, Mr. Adler. But if you want me in the library, I'll be in the library."

"Good. And Samuel? Mr. Adler is my father. Call me Rafe."

"Only if you call me Sam," he answered, grinning. "I'll get back to work now. Thank you, Rafe."

"Of course."

And with that, Sam Drake disappeared through the door, leaving Rafe alone again. His confident smirk faded in an instant and he turned to the shelf that Sam had been inspecting. "'Infamous Pirates of the Seventeenth Century', huh? Maybe that bastard was telling the truth."

With two fingers he slipped the book of the shelf and flipped through it, paying the pages no mind. His thoughts were swarming with the fresh memory of the encounter. Sam's accent, the timber of his voice, the shifty look in his eyes. There was something he was lying about, or hiding, and Rafe would find out what. And if it was something Rafe didn't approve of, he would see to the Sam's punishment, as well.

Closing the book with a solid thump, he slammed it back into place. He glared at the spine. "Pirates. Pirates are nothing but glorified goddamn thieves. Who gives a crap about pirates?"

-

The next day, as promised, Sam Drake returned to the library. Rafe was leaning against one of the desks in wait, and greeted the man with a friendly smile when he made his way across the room. "Sam! Good of you to join me again today. I was worried you'd forget."

"How could I?" He stopped a few feet away, as if afraid to get too close. "You made such an impression when we first met."

"Sassing your employer's son? You're brave," chuckled Rafe, and he took a sip of his scotch. The drink was cool and fiery all at once, running smoothly down his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment out of pure enjoyment, then slid a glass over in Sam' direction. "Drink? I won't tell anyone."

"I still have half my shift to go, I probably shouldn't."

"I already said I won't tell. Go on, have a drink."

Sam nodded a few times before taking up the offer. He poured himself half a shot and took a sip. "Wow, that's some good stuff. Must've been expensive."

Unable to care less, Rafe gave a shrug. He gestured to the pile of books on the desk in an effort to change the subject, "Here you are, Sam. Every book in the library about pirates and piracy, at your disposal."

Letting out a low whistle, Sam circled the table and tapped the topmost book on the cover. "You put together this little gift basket all for me? I'm flattered."

"You should be. I don't normally care about much, but you, _you_ have my curiosity."

"Do I? And, ah, however did I get your curiosity all a-flutter, Rafe?"

"We'll get to that another day, shall we?" Rafe's eyes burned into Sam's. "Why don't you just go ahead and enjoy your little present, hm?"

Unflinching, Sam stared back for a long moment. Then, clearing his throat, he clutched at his chest, "Mind if I smoke?"

Rafe blinked, then waved his hand. "Sure, what do I care?"

Pulling out a cigarette, Sam lit it and took a long drag. "Much better. Thank you. And thank you for the books, my brother and I appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do. Quite literally."

"Yeah, well, thanks anyways." He began to sort through the books, separating them into smaller piles. "You know, it doesn't seem like you care about too much, Rafe. Got all these books on your hands and you never seem to be reading them."

With another sip of his drink, Rafe took a seat down on the opposite side of the desk. "I've lived here for twenty-four years, you know. I've read them all by now. None of them hold my interest."

"Your loss." Opening one of the books, Sam gave a small cackle of delight as he flipped page by page. He focused all his attention on the paper in front of him.

Feeling loneliness creeping into his skin once again, Rafe sniffed and placed his empty glass down on the polished wood with a small clink. "Why don't you tell me about your brother?"

That got Sam's eyes to rise from the books. "Who, Nathan? What's to tell?"

"Tell me about him. Is he younger, older . . . ?"

"Younger. By seven years."

"That's quite the difference."

"Yeah. Sometimes he feels more like a kid than a brother, you know?"

"I don't, actually. Only child."

"Oh, right. Well, I don't really know how to explain it. It's like, you have to take care of this whole other person, while also letting them be their own person, right? I don't know, mostly it feels like I'm messing something up." His gaze dropped back to the books, eyebrows drawn together in bitterness.

Rafe observed him for a minute, then decided he wasn't lying. "Sounds like a chore, honestly. But I guess that's love, isn't it?"

In a wistful tone, Sam agreed, "I guess it is."

The rest of Sam's break was spent mostly in silence. Rafe poured himself another drink, and another when Sam left to get back to work. He wasn't sure why, but he went to bed with a strange feeling in his lungs that he didn't quite understand.

Maybe he shouldn't have let Sam smoke indoors.


	2. Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback and support! I'm so happy you seem to like the first chapter, and I'm more than happy to present you with the second. I apologize for the slight delay but I had to move this week, so it's been hectic balancing writing in with that. Still, I like how it turned out and I hope you all agree c:

Rafe's father spent the following day at home. Rafe felt his judgmental eyes on him during his practices. It made him sweat all the harder, knowing he had to prove himself.

As an only child, it was implied he would inherit everything when his parents eventually passed away. Still, they had made it clear he had to earn that right, and there had always been a chord of tension between them. It was true that Rafe wanted to make his own name, but he wanted to do it for himself, not for his parents. He would rather start his own company, make his own fortune than lurk in their shadows trying to challenge their expectations.

Just before dinner, he approached his father with a determined mind, "Mr. Adler."

"Raphael." His old man held out his arms, as if encouraging his son to embrace him. Rafe knew better. "You've been working hard today. You've made progress since last I got to watch you."

"It's not as though I have anything better to do," he said in a low voice, mostly to himself. "Why are you here today? Don't you have a dozen factories to look over?"

"What's the point in owning a company if I can't relax at home on occasion?" His father shook his head. "But you have a point. I needed to speak with you about something."

Though he should have expected it, Rafe felt his heart sink at those words. Of course he couldn't just stay home happily. There was always some sort of business he had to attend. "And what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"My watch. You know the one. I always wear it." He held up his empty wrist and gestured to them uselessly. "Your mother custom-ordered it for me last year. It's quite expensive, and now it's missing."

"That's a terrible shame," Rafe tried to sound interested in his father's loss, but his efforts fell flat.

"It is," his father's tone was grave. "I keep it next to my bed as I sleep. Someone took it during the night without my notice."

"So ask security. I'm sure someone saw something."

"That's just the problem. I think it was one of my new hires that took it. I did background checks on all of them, but I worry one of them gave me a fake name."

"I see."

"I want you to investigate all the new members of the security team. There are seven. I'll provide you with a list of names and you can question them at your leisure."

"Can't you just ask the rest of the security team to do that?"

His father's open palm slammed against the table, "I don't trust them!" After a moment, he began to breathe again, and a long sigh slipped from his mouth. "I need _you_ to do this for me, Raphael. My son."

He had thrown in the last bit to try and guilt Rafe into it, and Rafe was well aware. Still, he wasn't in the mood to argue further, and at least he would have something to do. So begrudgingly, he accepted, "Fine. Give me the list."

Procuring a slip of paper from his jacket pocket, his father passed it to him. "Take your time with this. If one of them is a thief, I don't want him getting tipped off. I want my watch back."

"Yes, sir," Rafe replied dully. He glanced over the paper, barely registering what was on it until he recognized a name: Samuel Drake. His eyes narrowed and he tucked the paper into his own pocket without another word.

-

Mr. Adler left shortly after dinner, leaving Rafe alone with dessert: raspberry cheesecake, a bit too sweet and a bit too creamy for his tastes. He picked at it for a few minutes before heading to the library, anticipating the conversation he would have with Sam tonight.

His head was filled with thoughts of his father, and his mood was sour for it. He didn't want to talk to Sam about his father, or his watch, or anything of the sort. No, he wanted to hear Sam explain about his pirates. There was something in his voice, something about the way he carried himself that made Rafe want to listen to him for hours on end.

When he entered the library, he was assaulted by the smell of smoke. It took tremendous effort to keep from coughing, and he followed the scent to the far corner of the room, "Sam?"

The man lifted his head from the book he was pouring over and flashed a grin. "Oh, hey. I'm not working tonight, so I thought I'd come here and do some research. If that's all right?"

Eyeing the man up and down, he offered a half-hearted shrug. "Most of the guards go out into town on their days off, rustle up some women, you know? But if you'd rather be in this dusty room, reading, well, that's your choice."

Sam cackled. "Nah, I was invited by some of the veteran guards but I'd rather be here. It's my passion, y'know? Besides, I've gotten into enough trouble with the ladies, if you catch my drift."

Rafe didn't know, but he wasn't about to say as much. "So long as you're happy. What are you reading about today?"

"Ships, mostly. It's fascinating how they got such massive things to float, eh? I mean, you consider the technology they had back in the day, it's actually pretty impressive. In my opinion."

"Indeed." Rafe took the chair opposite him and flicked at the tabs sticking out of the pages. "You're really dedicated to your research, huh."

"Yes sir I am. Like I said, it's something my brother and I have been working on since we were little. It's always stuck with me."

"How little?"

"Ah, I don't know. Since forever, almost. Our mom was a big history buff, so she was always telling us stories. Got us hooked at a tender age."

"'Was'?"

"Yeah." Sam's expression sobered, and he stubbed out his cigarette. "She, ah, passed away when we were still kids. Then dad ran off, typical, right? So it's just been me and Nathan."

"I'm sorry," Rafe forced emotion behind his words. "That must have been difficult. Still, you seem to be doing all right now, working for my family."

"You guys offer great benefits. I can take care of the both of us."

"You're taking care of your brother? I didn't think he was that young."

"Nathan is old enough to drink now, that's true, but he's got a knack for getting himself in trouble. He needs me." Opening his jacket, he plucked out a fresh cigarette and lit it with ease. "Which is why I appreciate everything you're doing for me here. He gets all giddy when I come home with some new facts for him. He does his own research, but he doesn't have access to all the lovely books you do."

Rafe smiled, and Sam smiled back before returning to his reading. 

Running his hand through his hair, Rafe leaned back in his seat. He picked up the nearest book and opened it, pretending to read. In reality, his eyes stayed focused on the man across from him, watching with an almost morbid curiosity.

-

The night crept along. The pair of men made small talk and discussed their readings every few minutes or so. Sam was often ready with a new tidbit of pirate trivia, and Rafe listened with intent without ever really hearing what was being said. He picked up on some of it--some of it Sam repeated a few times--but his attention was on the man himself rather than his words.

The first word Rafe would use to describe Sam Drake was "charismatic". He seemed to always know what he was saying, how he was saying it, and what effect it would have on Rafe. It was the mark of a skilled liar, Rafe decided, and he didn't trust him in the slightest.

Minutes ticked into hours, and eventually Rafe yawned and closed his book. "When did it get so late? Don't you need to go home?"

"Probably not a bad idea. I could use a shower and a hot meal before my next shift."

"Right. Remind me to bring you something to eat next time you have a day off."

"I'd like that," grinned Sam as he pulled out a fresh cigarette. As he struggled with his lighter, he mumbled, "Thanks again for letting me do this, by the way."

"Thank you for letting me sit in with you while you work. It's fascinating stuff."

"Yeah, I always thought so." Fixing his jacket, he took a long drag and breathed out slowly. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Sure." Rafe flashed a smile, then frowned. "Sam, there's something I need to ask you, in regards to your job."

"Oh?" The statement got him to raise his eyebrows just the slightest. "Go ahead, shoot."

"You see, my father has this watch--custom-made, holds some emotional significance, whatever. But it went missing. I think it's just his age catching up with him, but he thinks it's been stolen. If you could tell the rest of the team to keep an eye out for it, he'll be grateful. So will I, without him breathing down my neck about it."

"Oh, I see." Sam's eyes grew dull, uncaring, and he gave a solemn nod. "I'll give the boys a heads-up, yeah. I'll let you know if I see anything."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, of course. It's my job after all, isn't it?" Finishing his cigarette, he stamped it out on the nearest ashtray and cast a wink in Rafe's direction. "I'm sure we'll find it soon. It's gotta be around here somewhere, right?"

Smiling, Rafe refused to say another word on the subject, instead offering his goodbyes and goodnights. Sam took off, and he was left with his thoughts once more.

Sam had stolen the watch, of that he was sure. Even the best liars had their tells, and Rafe had already picked up on his. He would have to deal with Sam one way or another. The only question was: how to go about it?

Rafe organized the books once more before heading back to his bedroom, his mind focused on Sam. In some ways, he was impressed by the man's gall. He had gotten a job at the estate--probably by faking his references--snuck into his father's bedroom, and stolen the watch right from under his nose. The audacity was notable enough on its own, but in combination with the skill to have actually pulled off such a stunt?

Somehow it excited Rafe to have encountered such a man, and he went to bed restless.


	3. Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things actually happen in this chapter, how exciting! I had more to say, but I'm dead tired, so I'll just leave you to this. I hope you enjoy c:

A week passed. Every night, Rafe would meet Sam in the library. Every night, he would bring him a snack and every night, they would talk for as long as they could. There was an air of rebellion in their meetings that Rafe loved, a scene of secrecy comparable to an affair. Of course, it was far from an actual affair, but he felt like he was spiting his parents in a similar manner.

He began to learn little things about Sam. His tastes, his mannerisms, his background. Some of it he picked up on, carefully observing him, and the other information Sam offered freely. Not too much, not enough that he would be compromised, but enough that Rafe was satisfied. And he knew it, too.

Sam didn't give much away, but it became clearer and clearer that he was watching Rafe just as closely. He would contradict his statements when Rafe spoke out of character, would question him when he answered with vague nothings. It was the exact thing he was doing to Sam, and he loved that the man could match his subtlety.

Still, conflict arose in Rafe. He knew that Sam had run off with his father's watch and it was slowly burning him up. At some point soon he would have to confront him. His patience with himself wore thin, and he knew his father's patience was worse than his own.

Once again it was Sam's night off, and the two of them stayed up well into the morning. As he was getting up to leave, Rafe--still unused to staying up late--was in the middle of a yawn when Sam said, "Hey, are you happy with your life?"

Finished his yawn, Rafe blinked several times before titling his head. "What makes you ask me that, exactly?"

Also rising to his feet, he offered a shrug in reply. "I mean, you've got more money than you can count, and you have all these books and all this stuff at your fingertips, but you just seem . . . I don't know. It's like none of that matters to you. And you spend all your time with me, a guy you barely know."

Sam's words made it sound as if he didn't know better, but his tone betrayed him. Rafe stared him down for a long second before retorting, "Are you happy with your life?"

"I'd be happier with a billion dollars at my disposal. But I mean, overall, I guess it could be worse. Nathan and I are both safe, I got this cushy job now. And I'd like to think I've got a pretty good friend outta you."

If Rafe was a lesser man, he might have blushed. Instead, he sighed. "You're really content with that? I mean, I'm flattered, but still. Isn't there anything you want out of life? To make a name for yourself, maybe?"

"Is that what you want out of life?"

Tapping his finger against the tabletop, Rafe contemplated his next words with care. Eventually, he answered, "I want to be my own man. I don't want to be the rich kid who rides on his parents' reputation. Everyone stereotypes enough as it is. I don't want to be included in that."

Sam lit a fresh cigarette and nodded in understanding. "I can get behind that. I used to be the same--well, the opposite, but I had the same frame of mind. Didn't want to be cast into the role of a dirt-poor orphan, stealing to make a living, you know? I wanted to make an honest earning for me and Nathan."

In some aspects, Rafe knew that he was telling the truth, and yet the man's eyes shifted the way they always did when he lied. Rafe folded his hands in his lap and stared with narrowed eyes. "That's very noble of you, Sam. I'm glad my family could, ah, help you achieve that."

"Yeah, I suppose I should be thank you." Grinning, he tipped his head in a mock bow. "Thank you, your graciousness."

Waving his hand, Rafe scoffed, "If you never called me that again, it wouldn't be soon enough."

"Ha! Not a fan of nicknames?"

"Not shitty ones."

"Ouch, that smarts, you know."

"It should." Their laughter faded, and Rafe grew bitter. "No, you know what? I'm genuinely happy for you. You're here, working an honest job. I mean, you're not living an honest life--you stole my father's watch, after all--"

"What?" stuttered Sam, eyebrows creasing, "what do you--"

Rafe seized Sam's jacket and threw him against the wall with all his strength. "Don't play dumb with me, Sam. I might consider you a friend, but I know you've been lying to me since day one. I looked into your background and I know you've done time for theft and breaking and entering. Now you're just more smooth about it, aren't you?"

Wheezing, Sam held up his hands in protest. "I don't know what you're talking--"

Rafe knocked over a chair, "Bullshit! You know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't lie to me!" Inhaling, he calmed himself down, and said in the most even tone he could manage, "Listen, just tell me what you did with it. I won't turn you in or even fire you. I just need it back."

Sam began to laugh. After a minute he choked out, "You know, you really had me there for a minute. I thought you actually cared about me. But you're just looking out for daddy, aren't you?"

Rafe gripped him by the shirt and hissed in his face, "Don't make me hurt you!"

In one moment he felt Sam's hands on his hips, and in the next, he was on the floor. The man slung his leg over his body and trapped him there, shaking his head in disappointment, "Now, Rafe, come on. There's no need to act like a thug to someone raised on the streets; that shit isn't gonna work on me."

"Get off!" he snarled, trying to swing at him.

Sam had a reach advantage and pinned his arms to the ground. "Calm down for a second and listen, Rafe. Yes, okay, I stole the watch. But it's gone now. I sold it."

"What?!"

"What do you mean 'what'? Of course I sold it! Who the hell would hold onto something they stole?"

"Sam," Rafe pleaded very suddenly, "please, I need it--if my father finds out what you've done, he'll kill you!"

"And you actually care what he does to me?"

"Yes!" Rafe cursed himself and closed his eyes. "Listen, Sam. You--you're the only friend I've ever had since grade school. More than that, you really seem to be a good guy, underneath all your conniving and thievery--but, but hey, I'm not much better, am I?"

Sam's eyes narrowed and he slowly released Rafe's arms. "So what are you trying to get at?"

"I'm offering you a chance to get it back. You bring me the watch and I'll keep you out of trouble. You get to keep your stable job and take care of your brother, and keep using my library all you want. But if I don't get the watch back, losing the job will be the least of your worries."

"Are you goddamn blackmailing me," he chuckled, "while I have you on the ground?"

"I'm trying to look out for you," he hissed. "You think you have a contingency plan? What, change your identity and go into hiding? You think that will save you? Or your _brother_?"

In an instant, Sam's hand was around his neck. "You do _not_ threaten Nathan."

"I'm not threatening anyone," gasped Rafe, prying at his fingers. "I'm just trying to--warn you--!"

Slowly, Sam relented. "You're really trying to help me out, huh? You think I'm going to believe that after you just snapped at me?"

"You have to believe it," Rafe panted. "If you don't, you're the one who's going to suffer for it. By my father's hand, not mine."

"You expect me to believe you have nothing riding on getting that damn watch back?"

"Not as much as you do."

Sam answered with contemplative silence. After a minute, he stood back up, and offered Rafe his hand. "Look, getting it back is not exactly easy. I've already used the cash I got for it. So unless you want to offer me a loan, I'm screwed anyways."

Ignoring the offered hand, Rafe got back on his feet. As he brushed himself off, he rolled his eyes. "What, like you can't just steal it back?"

"That's . . . a fair point."

Rubbing his neck, Rafe cleared his throat. "Jeez, you're the crook here, I'd expect you to at least think like one."

"Yeah, yeah."

"So. You know where it is, right?"

"Yeah, I know where it is. Why? You gonna help me steal it back?"

"Oh, no, no, it's your life on the line, I'll leave it up to you."

"No, no, I insist," a playful smile crossed Sam's lips. "After all, if you don't get it back you're going to disappoint daddy, aren't you?"

"You bring up my father one more time, and I'll kill you myself."

"C'mon," he cast a wink, "I could use someone to help me with the getaway. I'm sure you could scrounge up a car without plates pretty easy, yeah?"

"Why don't you ask your precious brother?"

"Nathan's got his own work, I'm not going to involve him in this."

"But you're going to try and drag me into it?" Rafe scoffed, "I don't think so."

"Not even if I told you that I sold it to the Valentinio estate?"

That stopped Rafe. "Valentinio? Our rival? _That's_ who you sold my father's watch to?" He couldn't help but laugh. "My God, he would die if he knew."

"Glad we can agree on something at least." Sam lit up a fresh smoke. "Look, I won't be able to get in and out by myself. I could use some help. I promise I ain't trying to screw you over, all right? You want the stupid watch back, I want the stupid watch back. So we need to work together."

"And you expect me to trust you after all the lies you told me?"

Sam held his arms up. "Hey, I wasn't the only one playing pretend."

Regarding him, Rafe folding his arms across his chest. "You think we're alike, you and I? You think I'm a criminal?"

"I think you wish you were. At least you'd be making your own name, eh?"

Their eyes met. Sam raised an eyebrow in a suggestive manner, and Rafe scowled. "You drive a hard bargain, Drake. You really go for the throat."

"Hey man, if you're happy livin' in the lap of luxury, you can stay put and I'll try for the watch myself. But if you want to live a little, well, this is your chance."

They stared each other down until finally, Rafe couldn't help but crack a smile. "All right, you've got me. I'm in."


	4. Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me this far! I really like this chapter, it's probably my favourite up to this point, and I hope you like it as well. As you may or may not know from tumblr, I lost my outline last week and I've been working on rewriting it, but I'm still doing my best to get these chapters out on time. c:
> 
> I recall what I wanted to say in the last chapter; that we now have a canon age difference for the Drake brothers and that I was wrong in the first chapter. I could go back and edit it but I don't think it makes that much of a difference, personally. But let me know if you feel differently and I'll change it. Thank you for your understanding!

In the cover of the following night, Sam and Rafe made their move. During the day, Rafe skipped his practices to pick out a car. Once decided on a black suburban, he removed the license plates and hid it in one of his father's garages. Once evening struck and Sam approached him, they took the car and drove to the Valentinio estate.

Parking a block away, Rafe turned to Sam. "So do you have some sort of plan, or are you just going to waltz in there and hope for the best?"

"Obviously I have a plan," Sam rolled his eyes. "On the other hand, I don't know exactly where the stupid watch is, so I might take a while searching around. But just keep the car warm, all right?"

"Don't order me around."

"I'm not ordering anything, I'm just--look, if you bail on me, we're both screwed. Don't forget that."

"I'm not forgetting that."

"You used to be so nice," Sam sighed. "Guess that was all just for show, huh?"

Rafe said nothing, folding his arms across the steering wheel and glaring out the window.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Sam, after clearing his throat, opened the car door. "Well, I'll head out now. See you in about an hour. Wish me luck."

"Wait."

Fingers still curled around the handle, Sam waited. "Yes, your graciousness?"

Refusing to react to the petty nickname, Rafe glanced at Sam. "Look, just . . . try not to get yourself killed. Like you said, we both need this."

Giving a mock bow, Sam left without another word.

Alone once more, Rafe let out a long sigh and leaned back in his seat. Regret chewed on his insides, turning his stomach in sickness with himself. Why did he care about getting his father's watch, really? Not getting it back just meant one more thing Mr. Adler would hold over his head, and why was that so bad? He already did that with plenty of his other mistakes.

Instead, he drove a wedge between him and his only friend. Would Sam ever forgive him? Would he ever want to? He'd thrown him around and treated him like a criminal. And so what if he was a criminal? At least he was independent, doing something of his own accord--not following his old man's orders. Rafe couldn't say the same.

Self-loathing burned inside him. He revved the engine to distract his mind, then turned on the radio. The local pop station came on with a song about sex, and he emptied his mind of everything but the music.

Minutes passed and songs flew by. Eventually his mind began to wander, and he wondered of Sam. Did he really have a plan? What if he got caught? The Valentinio estate had just as much security as the Adler estate did. Sam had managed to sneak around their property only because he worked for them--as an outsider, how would he be able to navigate the Valentinio's grounds?

He shook his head, trying to clear it of such thoughts. Worrying about Sam was something he didn't want to do. He didn't want to care about the man at all. So far, caring had only hurt them both.

With a scowl, he cranked the music up, only to realize the current song was about lost love. "This is bullshit," he said to himself, refusing to acknowledge the way the lyrics struck him. "Shitty pop music." He switched the channel, and classical music came on. "There we go."

Yet he still fretted. He fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs, with the air conditioner settings, with his hair.

He soon snapped, slamming his open palm against the top of the steering wheel, "Come on, Sam, where the hell are you!?"

Checking the time, he noticed it had only been half an hour. A groan fell from his mouth, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Flicking off the radio, he stared himself down in the rear-view mirror. "Fine," he seethed, " _fine_. I'll apologize to him. Samuel _goddamn_ Drake. I'm sorry, all right!?" A fresh sigh left his lips, and his shoulders sagged. "I'm _sorry_." 

All that was left was to summon the courage to say it to Sam.

Gunshots startled Rafe out of his thoughts. His head snapped up and he peered through the window, hoping to catch sight of whatever had happened. More shots rang out, and he swallowed and revved the engine once again.

He waited, nerves knotting in his stomach like vines. He watched, eyes straining in the darkness. Nothing.

Minutes ticked by, and another set of shots rang out. Then, out of the bushes, a figure darted into the road, and bolted straight towards the car.

Rafe unlocked the doors as he came to recognize Sam, locking them again as soon as the man was inside. "Did you get it?"

"Just drive!" cried Sam, and he pointed to the shrubs he had emerged from. "They're after us!"

"After 'us'? They're after _you_ \--"

Before he could finish berating Sam, a loud bang sounded and a bullet hit the windshield, splintering it. Gasping, Rafe threw the car into reverse and hit the gas, running over the sidewalk as he turned the vehicle around. The air cracked again as another bullet struck the trunk of the car. 

"Go!"

"I _am_ going!"

"Then go _faster_!"

"Don't order me around!"

"Shut up and drive!"

" _I am_!"

Another hole appeared in the windshield, and both men cursed. Sam turned to look out the back window, and swore again. "They're chasing us with cars! We're screwed!"

"We're not screwed!" hissed Rafe, "Open the glovebox!"

Sam ripped the glovebox open and removed the pistol from it. "Shit, man, you were packing heat this whole time?"

"Shut up and shoot them back!"

"No need to tell me twice," he grinned and rolled down the window. "Here goes nothing!"

Heart threatening to burst from his chest, Rafe swerved as more gunshots rang past his ears. Sam began to fire, two shots in a row, and Rafe shouted at him, "Careful where you're aiming, that thing only has ten rounds!"

"Now you tell me!?"

"Just aim carefully!"

"I'm on it." He tucked back into the window and covered his head as the Valentinio security fired back, then, leaning out once more, he aimed along the sights, and fired.

One of the cars swerved off the street, its front right tire now flat. Sam cackled with delight as he hid inside once more, obviously pleased with his efforts. "Did you see that? Right into the ditch!"

Rafe grit his teeth and shifted gears, hoping to outpace the remaining vehicle as they came to a straight stretch of the road. "Great, now can you deal with the other one? I'd prefer not to get shot at anymore."

"I'm working on it--you know I'm the one they're shooting at, right?"

"Of course you are! I'm just the driver--" More bullets whizzed by, and Rafe jerked the wheel as he winced. "Get on it already!"

"I'm tryin', keep her steady!" Sticking his arm out the window, he fired back blindly, then turned on Rafe, "Keep the goddamn car in one goddamn place!"

"I'm trying to avoid getting hit!"

"This is a disaster," muttered Sam, and he ducked through the window once more. He shot, then shot again, then misfired as they ran over a pothole. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"

"I'm sorry, all right!?"

"Apologize after we get out of this!" And Sam aimed down the barrel of his gun once more. 

The other car immediately slowed to a halt, and after making a quick turn, Rafe zipped onto the highway and blended in with the other cars. "Good shot!"

"Thanks," panted Sam, chuckling to himself, "that was, uh, really good. Really exciting."

"That's one way of putting it," Rafe muttered, but his heartbeat was still racing. "Good God, what did you _do_?"

Still smirking, Sam produced the watch from his pocket. "I got it back. That's what I did." Then he cringed, and gripped his thigh, "Ah, shit."

"What? What's 'shit' for?"

"Bullet nicked me in the calf." He leaned down and squeezed his leg, letting out a small hiss as he brought his hand back up. "That's not good."

Rafe glanced over and saw red. Eyes widening, he shook his head and agreed, "That's not good. Let's get you to a hospital."

"Are you insane? I can't pay for a hospital."

"I can--"

"And after we just stole something? No, I can patch it up once we get back. Just take me back to the manor."

Rafe bit his tongue, fighting the urge to argue, but eventually ceded, "Fine, we'll go home."

"Good."

-

Once back at the Adler estate, Sam had bled enough to make a small puddle on the passenger's side floor, and his condition had worsened. Rafe had to help him walk, and he led him to his private bathroom. Even though it was farther and they trailed in blood, it was less likely that the staff would walk in on them.

Once in the bathroom, Sam removed his pants and sat on the edge of the bathtub. "Shit," he said, seeing the damage in the light for the first time, "that's not good."

"I thought you said it just nicked you."

"I thought it did! But that explains why it hurts so bad to walk on it, it tore into the muscle a bit."

Digging through the cupboards for medical supplies, Rafe shook his head. "You should really go to a hospital."

"We can worry about that if it gets infected, all right?"

"You're reckless."

"You're the one that made me go get that stupid watch back."

Rafe said nothing until he procured the supplies he was looking for. "Here we go. We've got some gauze and tape in here, it'll have to do."

Sam made a grabbing motion in his direction, "All right, pass it over."

Staring, he scoffed at the other man. "Yeah, sure. As if you have a first aid certificate."

"Will you just let me deal with my own damn injury?"

"No. If we're doing this at home, we're going to do it as best we can."

Rolling his eyes, Sam shot Rafe a glare. "Look, I know you don't actually care what happens to me. So can you drop the act and let me look after myself?"

Kneeling in front of him, Rafe wordlessly pulled out the bandages.

"Rafe--"

"I'm sorry."

Sam was visibly taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry. Don't make me say it again." Cloth in hand, he began to wipe Sam's wound. "Truth is, Sam, you're the only person I've ever been able to consider a friend. And while I still needed to get that watch back, I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. I'm just--I'm not used to . . . to caring about someone."

" _Rafe_ \--"

"Shut up for a second, let me finish. I'm not used to it, so I screwed it up. But I am sorry, and even though I'm sure you're going to run away, I want you to know that my friendship was genuine. It still is."

Sam said nothing as Rafe finished cleaning his wound. He simply sat and waited as the man bandaged him up.

Rafe swallowed, tension swelling within him. The sensation of Sam's skin beneath his fingertips felt electric, as if Sam would snap at him at any moment. Taking a deep breath, he turned his gaze upward and stared his friend in the eye.

"Rafe," Sam breathed, his stare serious and unwavering, "I'm sorry, too."

Unable to help himself, Rafe smiled.


End file.
